This year, I've been focusing on the small.

I've been reading Michelle Obama's new book The Light We Carry, and one thing she touches on is something I've done intuitively throughout my life but now am much more mindful of ...

This week, I hit "The Middle Uglies." (I got that term from my artist mentor Stan Moeller.) If you're a painter, you know what I'm talking about. If you're a collector, you might as well know the ugly secret all artists struggle with. There are no exceptions. Even the masters grappled with it. It's that stage of the painting process ...

It's here again. That time when I am astonished by the delicacy and grace and beauty of backlit trees in autumn. I know I'm not alone in that feeling.

I hike in the mountains, or I walk through the woods of a nature preserve nearby, and I feel a stirring, a yearning of deep and poignant emotions.

It's enough to make me research and read about the symbolism of autumn, because it's that powerful. It's not just about dying. That much I have always sensed. But what else is it?

It's been a while. How are you doing?

I apologize for the silence on my end. I got a bit overwhelmed there for a while. I'm sure I'm sure you can relate, given all that's happening.

Aside from the pandemic, in my case and for a couple of months, it was mostly in a good way--I moved into a new home (not the best timing, but it worked out well, thank goodness), moved my studio from its former location at the Salmon Falls Mills into said new home, and have been immersed in teaching my online course, as well as getting great joy from watching my students grow and find their artistic voices. There are many happy stories to tell, and I will tell them, in time.

But not now. 

Now is a time for a different kind of story....

I got humbled this week. Like, bring-me-to-my-knees-after-a-lot-of-frustration-and-swearing humbled. As if that's not bad enough, I have to confess it's not the first time, and I know for sure it won't be the last. When it comes to being an artist, some mistakes have to keep being made. That might be true of the human condition in general, as well as life and its lessons, come to think of it. But I want to focus on the artistic process here.

First, an alert: this post borders on the sentimental. That is anathema to many an artist, and most times, for good reason. But I’ve never been an absolutest (the world doesn’t work that way), and in this case, sentimentality is not only okay, it’s a good thing.

I went on a cruise through the Gulf of Mexico, down into the Caribbean, with stops in Cozumel and Belize. Now, let me point out very clearly that I am not a cruise kind of person. But a very good friend pointed out to me that this was not a typical cruise ....

I mentioned in a previous post that I’m working on a series about a solo cross-country road trip that I took, where I camped in national parks and began to find myself again after losing my husband to brain cancer. To say it was life changing is an understatement.

Those who read this blog will notice it's been more than a year since I've written a new post. And there's a reason. During that time ...